


Are you with me

by serpienten



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, its saaaaad btw, the song is "are you with me" by nilu, uuuh a song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 07:38:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17260217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serpienten/pseuds/serpienten
Summary: Bucky finds himself second guessing everything.





	Are you with me

**Author's Note:**

> As always, Feedback is very appreciated.  
> Also, Happy New Year!

_wake up_

His breathing is shallow, sounds muffled in the room as he lies on his back and has his stare fixed on the ceiling. The heartbeat that thumps in his chest is almost painful, so fast it is beating.

Beads of sweat slide down his forehead, his neck, his bare chest. The world around him spins at an unnatural speed and the deafening silence, that has taken control of the room, threatens to almost even drown out the loud thuds of his heart. Almost. He clenches his eyes shut.

_stay with me_

Bucky unclenches his fists and releases the fabric of the white sheets, that cover his body from the waist down, from his grip. Metal and flesh appendages alike are brought up to rest on his face. He inhales shakily, fills his lungs with oxygen and chases away the feeling of asphyxiation.

But his racing thoughts and heart stay with him. Only one thing – no, no, no. Only one person could succeed at calming him. And even though that person’s lying right next to him, he can’t reach her. It feels wrong. Her back is turned to him, body curled inwards, away from him. Bucky turns his head and lets his gaze rest on her sleeping form.

_through the flood and through the fear_

They had gone to that cute, small and, in his opinion, way too overcrowded café yesterday. Rays of sunshine had flooded through the big windows, dozens of people had been seated at the vintage looking wooden tables. And Bucky hadn’t minded for once. He still didn’t like crowds, but these people weren’t paying attention to him.

To him, or the jacket he was wearing even though it was a really hot summer day, or the glove that was covering his left hand, or why someone like him was holding the hand of an angel in his rough, calloused one. But no one looked at them longer than necessary. Not being the center of negative attention had felt strange and like a dream at once and he’d asked himself if this was what his life could’ve been like had he just gone home.

And then, in that moment, sitting in that café, fairy lights dangling from the walls and all over the ceiling that looked like little stars against the dark blue paint, laughter and happy conversations floating through the room, with the love of his life right next to him, he had felt like maybe his life now wouldn’t be so bad either. Now, though, lying on his back in their bed, he finds himself second guessing everything.

_right now I need you here_

Friendly faces that had been smiling when they’d entered the café, suddenly turn into sneers. The room grows smaller and the fairy lights become brighter, painfully so. The delicious coffee the waitress had put in front of him with a polite smile, is now scorching hot on his tongue and clatters loudly when it’s thrown down in front of him and he flinches at the sound. The wood of the table was rougher now, rutted, little splinters sticking out and burying themselves in the fingers of his right hand.

_I need you to stay strong_

Bucky lets out a noise that sounds like something between a strangled whimper and a growl and he snakes his arms around his head and clamps down. He releases another shaky breath and turns to the side, curling up into a ball, knees and chin pressed against his chest tightly.

A sharp pain shoots through his head when his fingers pull harshly on his hair, frantically trying to prevent his mind from turning something so lovely and happy into something more fitting for someone like him. A murderer. A demon. A monster.

to remind me where I came from and where I belong

He’s shivering. Even though he rarely ever gets cold, he’s shivering. But he doesn’t move to pull the blanket over his shaking body. He doesn’t move at all, save for the clenching and unclenching of his fists in his hair.

_so, wake up_

He’s shivering and shaking and she’s so far away from him it hurts. Because usually, she’s right there when he’s in a place like this, soothing him, reassuring him, calming him. But he’d be an idiot not to notice that she’s slipping away from him. Slipping through his fingers like the handle on that train before it broke off and fell with him. That handle that caused this mess he was calling his life in the first place.

_‘cause I’m starting to think that I never actually had you_

And sometimes, even this mess feels like a dream. A nightmare, at times, but still one he doesn’t want to wake up from. In that dream, he can fall asleep and wake up next to Y/N. He gets to hold her hand, he gets to go to cute cafés with her and he gets to hold her in his arms. Steve is more or less save.

If he ever wakes up from this dream, Bucky knows he’ll be back in a dark room in a Hydra base, waking up from cryogenic sleep and everything will be gone again. And he’s not sure if he could handle that.

_you’re not in the dark but far from the light_

It’s been endless minutes – or hours? – since he’s been lying there like that, curled up in a ball, arms draped over his head. He’s utterly exhausted. Shaking and shivering and tensing has already drained the energy he’s gained after sleeping three hours and now sleep is evading him. After some more endless minutes that feel like hours, he releases his head from his grip and glances over at Y/N.

_and I need to know now_

She looks so peaceful, it actually breaks his heart. Because at that moment they’re more different than he’d like them to be. Bucky, the ex-assassin, who can’t go into crowds because he freaks out every other minute, who has to cause himself pain to prevent his thoughts from spiraling out of control, and Y/N, who is blissfully normal, who’s his angel, pure sunshine that shines a light in his darkest hours. An angel that a demon like him just doesn’t deserve.

And she seems to be noticing it too. Her touches have become fewer, farther apart, the kisses they share don’t linger as much as they used to and lately she sleeps with her back turned to him instead of burrowing her head in the crook of his neck. It’s driving him insane. She’s slowly but surely drifting away from him and all he can do is stand by and watch helplessly. What happens to a demon that loses his angel, his only chance at redemption?

_are you with me?_


End file.
